


Stones in the River Do Not Shatter

by missmollyetc



Category: Pi Zi Ying Xiong/Black and White
Genre: Character Study, Character of Color, Descriptions of wounds, Gen, spoilers for the end of the series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-19
Updated: 2010-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-13 19:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmollyetc/pseuds/missmollyetc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lan Xi Ying has her own path.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stones in the River Do Not Shatter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maat_seshat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maat_seshat/gifts).



> This was written for maat_seshat for the 2010 Yuletide. I hope she enjoys it. :) I'm _fairly_ certain we'll get jossed, but until the movie comes out, I offer this interpretation. Thanks to my beta, Dira Sudis, for the grammar help and 11th hour scientific save.

When Lan Xi Ying is eight, instead of sports day, her school takes her year to Wa-Wagu to see Xinxian Waterfall. Xi Ying is like any of her classmates, clambering up the steep log staircase next to Ms. Yang and Ms. Lung and the classroom mothers. At the top, Xi Ying is sticky with sweat, and Ms. Yang waves both hands at her students.

“Form up! Form up,” she says, ignoring the tourists walking behind her. “You are Nin Xian students! Get into your lines.”

Xi Ying hates her line. She is right between Lin Xiao Ming and Chen Xiao Hua. The boys spend the entire time walking up to the large stone gateway to the suspension bridge breaking off bits of the plants in order to throw them at each other. She kicks dirt onto the back of Lin Xiao Ming’s shoes, and glares at his plump back until Chen Xiao Hua notices and yells for Ms. Yang. Ms. Yang blows her whistle, and Xi Ying stomps the whole rest of the way onto the bridge, glaring at the bushes and huge overhanging trees.

They stop in the middle of the bridge when Ms. Lung blows her whistle, and watch as water rushes over the edge of the cliff surrounded by dense, green plants. The spray billows in the air like clouds, high in the air. Her classmates shriek over the din of the water rushing past the rocks below, and the boys dare each other to lean farther and farther over the side of the barrier until the teachers wade in, yanking Lin Xiao Ming and Chen Xiao Hua apart. Xi Ying holds tight to the cold metal bar of the bridge and licks her lips, tasting the water from the spray in her mouth as it bursts over her face and dampens her hair against her forehead. She shivers, and looks up to the clouds over the sun just as Ms. Lung and Ms. Yang blow their whistles to get the lines moving again.

The sun is hot today and the path is long and curly; it’s almost too far for her to get to the waterfall. Xi Ying walks slower and slower up the trail, letting Chen Xiao Hua take her place behind Lin Xiao Ming, until finally Huang Yung-Fa’s father lifts her up and carries her the rest of the way on his back, singing the donkey song until all the rest of the class joins in. Xi Ying giggles when Mr. Huang pretends to drop her at the part where everyone sings ‘got very muddy,’ and before she knows it the trail has opened up and the trees are over her head and the waterfall is thundering before her. Mr. Huang sets her down right by the barrier, ruffling her hair as he moves back to his son. Xi Ying bows as politely as she can without looking away from Xinxian Waterfall. It is _three_ waterfalls in one, all crashing after each other like dominoes. Xi Ying has never heard anything so loud, or seen anything so beautiful, in her life.

The water hits the rocks in the pool below the observation barrier in long, straggling sheets, like the water mama throws into the garden after she’s done washing the dishes. It’s shining and frothy, roaring with life, and the spray tastes like…she doesn’t know. It’s not like the water that comes in cups at home, it tastes… Xi Ying opens her mouth as wide as she can, trying to catch as much of it as possible. She likes puzzles.

***

In high school, Xi Ying discovers Chemistry at the same time that her classmates are discovering each other, and both novelties are so very interesting she sometimes doesn’t know where to look first. Having Wu Jia-Zhen with her stick straight hair and artificially curled eyelashes and milk-pale skin as her study partner is like watching unstable ions through a microscope. First it’s Wu Jia-Zhen and Chen Wen-Yang, and then it’s Lin Xiao Ming, and some days it is neither of them, and Wu Jia-Zhen spends all of their lab time hitching her skirt up over her legs when Mr. Lung can’t see her and both boys can. In fact, she pays more attention to Lin Xiao Ming’s eyes than she does to the amount of precipitate she adds to their solution, and Xi Ying is too busy watching them both to notice. The explosion is both of their faults.

Later, after Mr. Lung has ordered them to clean the entire science lab, and for Wu Jia-Zhen to put her gym shorts on underneath her skirt, Xi Ying has a lot of time to think. It’s refreshing, really, since Wu Jia-Zhen usually talks so much that Xi Ying has to reread the same paragraphs in their textbook six times in a row.

Mostly, however, she spends the time marveling at how quickly the floor of their lab can stain. Xi Ying rubs her sponge against the purple blotch on the floor until the tile squeaks, and gives up.

“You know,” she says, sitting back on her heels. “This wouldn’t happen if you would just stick with one boy.”

“What?” Wu Jia-Zhen calls out, sticking her head around the corner of Mr. Lung’s desk.

Xi Ying wrings her sponge out into the bucket of suds, wrinkling her nose at the dirty brown water. “I said, ‘This wouldn’t happen if you would just stick to one boy,’ she repeats. “Lin Xiao Ming loves you, you know. It’s a gift.”

Wu Jia-Zhen is very still for all of a minute. Xi Ying wraps her hand around the edge of the table. She’s just about to stand up and go to her, when Wu Jia-Zhen snorts, loudly, and leans her arm against the teacher’s desk.

“What would you know about it?” she asks, voice a little too sharp. “You’ve been dating our textbooks since first year.”

For some reason, Xi Ying feels the back of her throat tighten, but she swallows and the feeling goes away. She sits back down on the floor, and lets go of the table.

“I know,” she says, “because of those textbooks. Some things just are.”

She puts her hands up, grimacing a little at her pruny fingertips. “One boy,” she says, waving her left hand, “and one girl,” waving her right, “make one atom.” She cups her hands together. “Everyone else should be outside.”

It’s how it works for her parents, after all. Mama and Bàba almost never go out with friends unless it’s an party for work. Mostly, they spend hours and hours in the living room reading together, side by side on the couch. She has grown up watching them, a complete unit. Sometimes, Bàba reads aloud and Xi Ying and Mama sit side by side with each other, just listening.

Wu Jia-Zhen laughs at her then, and Xi Ying again feels that tightness in the back of her throat. “You stick to your textbooks, Lan Xi Ying,” she says. “And I’ll stick to real life, okay?”

Xi Ying pushes her lips together, and ducks her head, looking down into the bucket. She shrugs, and dunks her sponge into the bucket with a little too much force. The water splashes up her arm and douses the sleeve of her school uniform. She slaps the sponge onto the stained floor, and starts to scrub again. People never notice _anything_. Wu Jia-Zhen doesn’t know that Lin Xiao Ming gave up Chen Xiao Hua for her, even though his empty seat at lunch makes Lin Xiao Ming’s eyes turn red. Chen Wen-Yang gave up nothing. What good is Wu Jia-Zhen’s ‘real life’ if she can’t even see what’s happening in it?

 

***

 

The night before she leaves for her graduate work is exceptionally quiet. She lived at home all through college, and her parents aren’t happy, even though she will be doing important work at the university, and Dr. Lee Chun-I has already expressed interest in advising her. Xi Ying packs her bags alone, listening for the sound of pages turning in the living room, even though there is no way that she would be able to hear it. In the morning, Mama and Bàba drive her to the train station, and press dry kisses to both her cheeks.

“Study hard,” Mama says. “Be a good girl.”

Her hands rub Xi Ying’s shoulders and upper arms, pressing down hard. She blinks rapidly, turning her head slightly towards Bàba, and Xi Ying looks away. Mama hates it when people can see her cry, and Xi Ying hates to make her. When Bàba hugs her good bye, she lifts her head from his shoulder to his ear.

“I promise to study hard, Bàba,” she says. “I will find Ge-Ge.”

Bàba’s arms tighten, and only Mama’s hand on his shoulder is strong enough to make him let go. Xi Ying takes her seat by the window, surrounded by her luggage, and shoves the window pane open as the train pulls out of the station. She waves until her car turns round the bend towards Taipei, and then sits back in her seat, letting the wind rush through her hair.

 

***

 

His name is Wu Ying Xiong. His hair is military-short, and they could probably use his spine to hang pictures in the visitor’s reception room. Every morning, she comes in to the lab to find him standing beside the entryway with his patrolman’s hat tucked under his arm, and a cup of coffee held in his hand. It always concerns a different case, and he doesn’t seem to actually sleep, but his uniform is never wrinkled, and he is never less than professional. In the past two months, Xi Ying has developed a bizarre urge to see him rumpled, perhaps even _mussed._

“Good morning, Dr. Lan,” Wu Ying Xiong says. He bows just like a toy soldier, barely creasing his waist, and extends the coffee. “Lee Sang-Min Ge would like to know if the results from the blood splatter have been processed yet.”

Xi Ying takes the coffee, and holds it underneath her mouth. She inhales the steam, and lets her eyes flutter close. When she opens them Wu Ying Xiong is staring at her with an intensity she’s only seen him give to his superiors, and occasionally phone calls to his family that come into work. It makes the back of her throat tighten. He has lovely dark eyes.

She smiles. “Good morning,” she says. “I don’t suppose you’re familiar with Einstein’s Theory of Relativity?”

If anything, Wu Ying Xiong’s spine _straightens_ , and Xi Ying doesn’t bother hiding her smile.

“If Lee Sang-Min Ge wants his results, he shouldn’t drop them off in the lab after hours,” she says, just before the vein in Wu Ying Xiong’s forehead throbs right off his face. “That way, the time he spends waiting for his blood splatter results will more closely align with the time he thinks _should_ be spent collating the data.”

Wu Ying Xiong takes a breath like the air itself is insulting him, and widens his stance. He sticks his hands behind his back, and lifts his chin in the air. “I will wait here,” he says, “until the results are in.”

Xi Ying sips her coffee, and raises her eyebrows, looking over the rim of her paper cup. Wu Ying Xiong’s eyes dart from her to the wall behind her, and back again. He chews his bottom lip, and Xi Ying finds herself watching the way the muscles in his neck flex. He ducks his chin, and Xi Ying smiles. Wu Ying Xiong, the stone pillar of South District, is blushing.

“If…I mean, if that is all right with you, Dr. Lan?” he says.

Yi Xing tilts her head. “Can you sit quietly?” she asks.

He splutters, breaking his parade ground stance, and she likes the way he looks without his professional mask. His shoulders are creeping up his neck, like a tomcat with his hackles up. Yi Xing takes her passkey out of the pocket of her lab coat, and swipes it vertically through the door lock. She opens the door on his first incoherent protest, and he catches the glass pane reflexively.

“That is important evidence,” he says as she walks past. “How can we make an arrest if we don’t even know what object was used in the assault?”

She looks over her shoulder. Wu Ying Xiong is practically vibrating with indignation, but, apart from holding on to the door, he is still standing in the hallway; not one toe into her territory without clearance. Xi Ying turns around in the doorway, and wraps both hands around her coffee cup.

“You can come in, patrolman,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “But I wasn’t kidding about being quiet.”

He smiles, taking a deep breath, and Xi Ying turns around quickly before he can see her grin, feeling heat flow across her cheeks. He pulls out the stool next to hers across from the Mass Spectrometer, and rests his elbows on the table. When he leans forward, tucking his hands underneath his chin, his uniform shirt creases. Xi Ying pulls out the box of splatter slides from her side drawer, and smiles. When she glances over from the corner of her eye, Wu Ying Xiong is looking back.

 

***

 

The water tastes like metal, or maybe it’s not the water in her mouth, but her own blood, floating away from the dock. She kicks, and the net holds her feet tighter. Xi Ying presses her ear against the support pillar, shuddering as the muck growing underneath the dock squidges between her fingers. It’s not good, this feeling. She has enough presence of mind to know that when you stop feeling the hurt, than you’re hurt worse than—the belt slips another inch, and she feels her stomach…she can feel the wound moving, the sides of it stretching apart, and its cold, it’s so very cold.

 

She hears shouting, and then someone is dragging her up.

 

***

 

Now, when Xi Ying walks, she can feel the pull of her scar with every step. She moves quickly to her lab, avoiding the open areas of the district office. It’s not that she doesn’t want to see anyone, it’s only that…Chen Nuo is in protective custody, and Chen Lin is--and _Chen Zai Tian_ is--so much has changed. She feels worn, horribly worn. Her skin stretches dry and thin over her bones. She is tired of facing facts.

But it is still her job, and her duty, and that is something to keep close to her heart. She takes the final turn down the corridor to her lab with her hands in the pockets of her lab coat, pressing her lips together. She puts her hand to her scar, pressing her palm down tightly until she can feel the puckered skin beneath her clothes. A cough makes her look up. She drops her hand, and shoves it back into her pocket. Ying Xiong-jie is standing outside her door, one hand tucked into his jeans’ pocket, and the other holding a cup of coffee. His hair is brushing the tops of his ears, and someone has clearly been giving him tips on how to style it.

She slows to face him, and his chin rises at her approach.

“Good morning,” he says, looking into her eyes.

He holds out the paper cup too quickly, and cheap station coffee sloshes against the rim. Xi Ying takes the cup from him before he burns himself. Their fingers brush and, for a miracle, Ying Xiong's eyes never leave her face, even as the tips of his ears turn red.

“I wanted to know…" he says, and clears his throat.

He straightens his back, and Xi Ying clenches her hand around her coffee, ignoring the itch of heat threatening to burn her skin through the cup.

"Chen Lin has ordered too much dinner tonight—too much even for Chen Zai Tian—and so…" He swallows. "Are you free? Can you come?”

Xi Ying breaks their eye contact in favor of staring down into her cup. She inhales, feeling the rising steam from her coffee brush feather-soft and moist against her mouth and cheeks. The faint reflection of her face floats on the iridescent sheen on the top of the coffee, and when she looks up Ying Xiong is looking back at her. She thinks she can see the beginnings of laugh lines on his face, in the creases of his mouth and the corners of his eyes. They're faint--more a suggestion, than a reality--and both of them are a long way from grey hairs no matter what stunts their team leader may pull, but still, it looks good on him. She thinks...it might look good on her as well. Xi Ying takes a small sip of her coffee, and lets the taste flood her mouth. She smiles.


End file.
